CHAPTER 2
He was teasing, of course, or at least I hoped so. To my surprise, Alwen bit back, albeit gently.

“Dai, if I am going to be walking barefoot on sand, I want it to be warm”

“Ah, after thirty seconds in that water, you won’t notice”

“After thirty seconds more I’ll be looking at frostbite! Nope, if you get me into water, it has to be coconut palm and coral reef country. Water temperature in the twenties at least, and I mean centigrade not Fahrenheit. No jokes about unwanted body parts, okay? Where are you and Jen off to next, Amina?”

“Oh, the Canaries, again, for all those things that begin with ‘S’. Sun, sea, sand… and of course the most important one”

Omar looked at Scott, and that lad started the guessing.

“Snorkelling? Snogs? Shagging?”

“Sangria, you little man of one-track thoughts”

She paused for a second before adding, “It’s great for cooling off after the passionate bits. Or maybe I mean cooling the passionate bits off afterwards. Same thing, really”

I added my limited contribution.

“What if I don’t want to drink that stuff, love?”

“All the more for me, then. Don’t mind!”

I looked across to Lil, who was slumped comfortably against my namesake, and deliberately chuckled.

“Tom and Connie, now they’re almost as predictable. Static caravan, out by Tenby, but then they’ve got their dogs”

Lil shuddered.

“Not one of those monster sites, all cars and plastic?”

“No, not them. One of our colleagues, his cousin’s got a farm out there. Looks after their van out of season. Now, I know Dai will be off to that Mad Jorka, and the boys here to Sitges or wherever, so where are you two looking at?”

That was when Lil surprised me by blushing, which was as far from her normal style as I would have thought possible. Move on quickly, woman; I scrambled out some nonsense.

“And I assume that actually WILL be Barry! Anyway, clock’s in overtime, so some of us need to get gone. Tom and me, we’re on a late turn next week, so we can’t quiz and no, this particular married couple will not be entering Caroline Street tonight for extras”

Amina raised a hand.

“Only because half of this particular married couple filled the fridge with samosas earlier!”

Marlene was still insisting on calling taxis for late departures, so we were actually driven well away from Chippy Lane, and my wife’s only comment during the ride was a terse “I’ll let you know later, love”

Key in door, chill already starting to bite, and Amina grabbed the bathroom as I checked for any fresh mail. I set two stacked plates carrying a couple of samosas next to the bed, and as she emerged in a long jersey nighty, I took her place to do my teeth and change into my own frumpiness. So much for romance and all that talk about bedroom shoes. She still warmed my side of the bed first, though. I wriggled under the duvet, sitting against the headboard as she passed me one of the plates, with a quiet “Lil, love”

“What about her? Good or bad?”

“Honestly? No idea. She’s… Where are we, Jen? Us two, I mean. Long nighties, snacks in bed; not exactly what the stories would be depicting, is it?”

“You complaining?”

“Course not. Comfy as a comfy thing, this, me. Lil was… Going to start again, love. Lil wanted to ask how we got on, as a couple. As a woman couple, yeah?”

She bit into her samosa, making sure all the flakes went onto the plate or into her mouth, chewed for a while, then swallowed.

“Complicated stuff, Jen. She’s been running over it all for months. A lot of ‘Am I really gay?’ shit, and that then comes with a massive guilt trip cause of her woman’s origins, and no jokes about England, just now., and so there am I, doing PR for the two of us, and don’t worry”

She finished her samosa before turning back to me.

“We had our excitement, love. I like to think we still can. Sod it: we still do. What I was trying to get across to her is the bit about comfort, and she was a bit dreamy-face about that. It was just one thing she asked that worried me slightly, and that was ‘how do you know it’s going to turn out like that?’, and I can’t answer that one fairly. Got suspicions, me, and can’t risk boat-rocking”

“What are you thinking, love?”

“That she’s fallen hard, but she’s looking at comfier shoes than I was on about. And I don’t think she’s had the appropriate words with the other important person, at least not yet”

“Confidence a bit lacking, you think?”

“Oh, most certainly. Hang on a sec”

She set her plate down, reached across for mine and set it on hers, then slithered down into the bed.

“Snuggle, love, and a few things that might sound wrong, so just let me speak, and no jokes, aye?”

I did as asked, and she cuddled into me, head on my chest.

“Lil’s looking at her fiftieth in a very few years, love, and she’s wondering where she’ll be. She looks at us, and she’s, well, I can’t call it jealous, but she’s wondering”

“And what does Jenny say?”

A tighter hug.

“I don’t think she’s asked, love”

“Shit. How much talking have you two done? Old flame stuff?”

“Um, sort of. All a long time ago, love”

Bite back on that, woman. She’s here, and all that’s long over. Warm arms in the present.

“I know that, my love. Her other half?”

“Ah, usual assumptions there, Jen. Suppose it comes from how they met.. I mean, they’re suited, but I think Lil’s seeing it all as her picking up someone vulnerable, can it last, all that shit”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sorry. See if I have this right, okay?”

“Okay”

“Lil is scared of old age on her own, sees us as the bloody gold standard, but doesn’t believe her girly would be up for that?”

“Yes, basically”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. And she hasn’t asked Jenny?”

“She’s frightened of the answer, love. Lil has a good set of people skills, but she’s a bit like that old socket set of mine. Missing some key bits. Seen it with her before, too many times”

“You been watching her?”

“Not like that. Bit old for me, and then I’m happy where I am, of course. It’s just that she does the same thing each time, and hangs back, and sometimes I don’t think she realises till the woman’s given up and moved on”

“You’re talking about something haven changed, aren’t you?”

“Talking about Jenny, love. Sometimes, when we’ve planned a night out, you don’t turn up till late---shush. I know it’s the job; it’s why I carry a book. When Jen comes over, it can be the same for her, almost, if the bar’s busy. We talk”

“You talk to anybody, love”

“Yup. It’s a skill, one that’s good for work, so once again, shush. Woman’s been in dark places. Lil and her, wasn’t something that should have happened. She was only in the city by chance; meant to be somewhere else”

“Where?”

“Weymouth”

“Oh dear. Dodged a bullet there, then”

“Shush, I said. Got her own worries, and they’re sort of parallel to Lil’s, in that she thinks she’s pushing things, presuming on her welcome and all that crap”

“And?”

“She’s head over, as far as I can tell. Absolutely hooked, but worried Lil isn’t. Same old dance, love”

“Why am I now worried you are having Ideas?”

“Because you know me, love. I have had words already”

“Who with?”

“Marlene, for starters, and then our hosts. Plus Alwen. Ox and the rest. And Jenny”

“Which leaves Lil, I assume?”

“Yeah. Needed to be sure Jen had the necessaries first, and she has. I know Lil went off to Ibiza a couple or three years ago, so am assuming for now”

She snuggled in properly after turning out the bedside light.

“It’ll work or it won’t, no you-me-donkey stuff there. Time for one of the Big Esses, love”

“You got sand in the bed?”

“No, but I need sleep”

I took the hint.

Tom and I were on mid shifts for the next four days, before that switch to late turn, and there was enough variety in the week to keep us ticking along, as well as the usual banter. We were sitting just off the M4 when he brought up photography.

“Connie wouldn’t accept that quiz answer, Jen! Spent three days trying to prove it was bollocks”

He chuckled.

“Geometry is a bloke thing, and the spherical version is a non-starter for her. I finally managed to explain it by cutting an orange in half after drawing a map on it. God forbid I ever have to explain Great Circle routes”

He guffawed then, and that one I understood.

“You’ve been wasting time looking at the flerf sites, haven’t you?”

“Guilty as charged. Latest stuff is hilarious—you can see over the horizon, but only if you’re using a specific make and model of electronic camera”

“Mate, you need to get out more”

“Fills the time, Jen. Hang on: go ahead, Central”

“Where you at, One Five?”

“Asda’s by the traffic management centre, Control”

“Can you start making way towards the Tesco Express at the junction of Northern Avenue and Ty’n y Parc Road? RTC. One reported casualty. Traffic car in attendance”

I took the mike from Tom after clicking in my seat belt, and took over comms.

“What do we have, Control?”

“Potential crush injury, lower leg. Victim not of interest to our colleagues in Traffic, so far”

“So far. Um, five to ten minutes ETA, Control”

“Understood. We’ll confirm that with Traffic and ARU”

I clicked off the mike.

“ARU, Tom? We got naughties as well?”

“Sounds like it. Armed units like to back up Traffic, especially if they’ve not had raw meat for a while. Let’s just get there first, aye? Not quiz night”

He set the disco going as we did a full circuit pf the Coryton Gyratory, only a couple of idiots needing an audible reminder, and then down the long straight of Northern Avenue, the traffic not actually backing up in the way I had expected.

“Central Foxtrot One Five, ETA two minutes, precise location?”

“Exit slip onto Ty’n y Parc from petrol station. Confirm that is the casualty’s current position”

I clicked off again.

“Odd spot for a bilk, Tom”

“Aye, but they said our subject isn’t of interest”

“No schadenfreude, then. Coming up to the lights now; I’ll do a Huey in the exit if there’s room, if not I’ll come in from the pumps”

“Got that. Control, one five: show us on scene”

There was room to cut in past the big sign, and Tom got us turned so that we had full rear access for the lift, and as soon as the wagon was stopped, I was out, Big Green Bag in hand. Four cars in sight, the rearmost being a marked traffic car. Another was a Volvo, with a BMW X5, each of which showed blue lights, while wedged into their embrace was a red and rather elderly Nissan 4X4. Two men were in cuffs, and being searched, and as one of the Officers holding them was our old friend Barry, the scrote’s feet were only technically on the ground. I looked around for Bryn, who was with me almost immediately.

“SP, love?”

“Proactive team there, on an ANPR cruise. Hit for history of bilking and cloned plates. We tucked in to follow, marked unit there joined us for the tug, and they were already at the pumps. We arrived, they rammed the proactive boys—might want to check them over”

“Casualty?”

“Member of public, on his way in to pay for his juice and pick up some shopping. Boys in the Nissan clipped a wall, and Mr Public, before we stopped playing nice and Barry took hm into the wall there. Casualty’s behind the Volvo”

Not good, at first sight, and even worse at second. Tom was quickly with me, then immediately away, to put in a call to our trauma team, while I went through the check list and introductions.

“Now, Naz, I’m Jen. Tom’s my mate. Nice policeman here says we can look after you now, but I need to know a few things first. Have you hit your head at all in this?”

“No, Miss”

“Good. Do you have any pain?”

“Oh yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten, where one is the wrong flavour of mint, and ten…”

“TEN!”

I was already running checks on him, of course, trying not to look too closely at his leg just then, as there was no obvious blood flow. Tom had his own routine.

“Oxy at 84, Jen. Want me to add some gas as well?”

“Please. Naz? Going to put a mask on you. Same sort of thing we give expecting mothers. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

A hint of a laugh. He was going to need a lot more than a hint when that leg came off.

CHAPTER 3
I could hear the sirens now, taking the opportunity to slip a canula in as Tom played with the gas: why add more pain? I couldn’t get my head around the lack of blood flow from that leg, and wanted Naz more than a little out of it before I had a poke. If it was what I suspected, he could risk a toxic shock if and when the juices did start flowing.

Sirens; closer, thank fuck. I dropped a unit of morphine into the patient’s arm before nodding to Tom.

“Cavalry, I hope. I’ll hold off on back boards till we get their decision. On the other hand… Bryn?”

“Aye?”

“Could you tug out the back boards for us? You know where they are. I’m going to be very busy in a few”

As he assured me there were ‘no worries’, I walked away to meet the trauma team, as far out of earshot of Naz as possible, but that meant passing our scrotery, and I got the usual shite about trannies. Barry was rumbling something, so I left it and got to the rapid response car just as the Proper Doctor emerged.

“What we got, Jen?”

“A bad one, Sandip. Given him one unit morphia so far, and Tom is monitoring air and gas. Massive crush injury to lower thigh, knee and lower leg. No arterial flow, however, so I am expecting toxic shock at some point”

I rattled off the rest of the numbers, just as a pair of police carriers arrived to remove my new friends and give us room to work. Sandip had a rapid eyes-on of his own,

“That’s straight to theatre, Jen. One more unit of morphia, then it’s apologies and hurt our friend. Give me thirty seconds while I update Casualty, then get him onboard. I’ll update the Registrar once you’re rolling”

Shit happens in my job, and this was just that. Naz was vocal as we moved him, a soft block either side of his leg, and then Tom played the disco once again until we were offloading the poor sod to what looked like a crash team. As soon as I had listed the analgaesia, he was off, and I was about ready for collapse. Not a good start for any day, or finish, or any part of the shift whatsoever. I was still grumping as Tom and I finished wiping everything down and headed back out for some more lurking with as little intent as possible.

Breathe, woman.

Thankfully, the rest of the shift was a lot less fraught, largely filled by acting as a taxi service for pensioners whose lungs had decided to retire before they had, but neither of us minded that, and there was only one who had difficulty in combining the concepts of ‘oxygen line’ and ‘no smoking’, which took nothing more than the offer of the ‘City Cars’ taxi number before compliance was achieved. And Tom’s evening meal consisted of boiled egg and spring onion sandwiches and half a pork pie.

I made him eat the former outside the cab, but I suspected he would be supplying his own air and gas later that evening. The only hint at further excitement before the end of that shift was a possible concussion from some idiot man riding one of those illegal e-scooters. We dropped off our wagon, and after a quick change of top, I asked at Triage about poor Naz.

“Still in theatre, Jen. Sorry”

Tom squeezed my shoulder.

“Still breathing, then. Best news of the day. Offski?”

“Offski”

We got the rest of his news three days later, via the Surgical Registrar’s office, which was a nice touch. I tried to explain it to Amina that night, but she was still lost by the time I had finished.

“Think of it as being like an old telescope, love. So much damage to the lower leg it was pushed up through where his knee had been, like a bloody tampon. No knee left, of course, but he’s kept the leg”

“Can’t he get a new knee later?”

Not with so much of his tibia and fibula gone, my love. And he still needed to beat the sepsis. Not a bedtime chat.

“Other Jen gone home yet?”

“In the morning, I believe. Any ideas yet?”

“Not as such love. Still cogitating. Oh, and Connie did Tom boiled egg and spring onion sarnies today”

“Oh dear. That’ll be what I can still smell on you”

“Sorry”

“Turn the other way’ I’ll do the spooning”

Morning’s light sandbagged me, but the wife had set the alarm for us, and I was actually a few minutes early for the shift., which was mostly more taxi role-play. The weekend was ahead, and we were on a part of the roster that actually gave us two off in a row, and Amina and I had plans for the Saturday. Naturally, the Friday afternoon threw us the wobbly.

“What we got, Tom?”

“The Hawthorns, Jen. Fall. Possible break. Woman in her eighties, also has kidney issues. Carers have a meds list ready for us. Awake and talking”

“Okay… break?”

“Sounds like left hip, mate”

“Arse. Sorry; not intended. Just thinking, with her age as well”

“I know, Jen. Going to bluelight this one; got one of those niggly feelings”

The place was one of our regular haunts, out in Morganstown, a new-build care home with a decent reputation. The only reason we were regulars there was, of course, the obvious demographic of their clientele, the other habitual callers being funeral directors. Death’s waiting room, with a nice view of Castell Coch. Tom made short work of the journey, and once he was parked up, I was out the door with the Big Green Bag, half expecting to find the patient on the floor, which turned out to be the case. Staff had covered her with a quilt and provided pillows, but thank god they hadn’t tried to lift her into bed.

“Hiya. My name’s Jen; I’m a paramedic. How are we doing?”

Her voice was weak but clear.

“Don’t know how you’re feeling, darling, but I hurt”

“Can you tell me where?”

“All down my side and into my leg”

“On a scale from one to ten can…”

“I know that one. Eleven”

Tom looked in, then went out for the back board, as I scanned the list of meds for contra-indications for analgaesia. Close to, despite her cheery cheekiness, I could see the thin film of sweat on her face.

“What’s your name, love?”

“Cynthia. Cynthia Brewer. You’re a local… girl, aren’t you?”

Shit. Get it out of the way.

“Not what you’re thinking, love. I’ve got PCOS. Polycystic ovaries. Makes me a bit furry”

“Sorry, love. Just, you hear all these stories”

“Well, it wouldn’t matter, anyway, would it? Now, I’m just going to give you something for the pain”

“Already had something for the pain, darling, a stupid bloody fall”

Keep the laughs coming, woman. I gave her an appropriate dose of morphine just before Tom appeared with backboard and trolley. For once, the staff weren’t all tiny women, and I gave some quick instructions before we gently rolled her onto the board, Cynthia screaming weakly as we did so.

“Two, three, LIFT”, and onto the trolley, our patient now whimpering with the pain. Tom slipped a mask onto her, starting ‘gas and air’ as a secondary painkiller, before raising the trolley and leading our way to the rear lift on the ambulance, with a passing word of thanks for the carers.

Same old same old, down the hill to the hospital, blues and twos on but speed held down so as not to bounce Cynthia more than we absolutely had to. We were straight from parking to the Acute Medical Unit by way of Radiography, but five minutes after we had wheeled her into X-Ray the crash team went past us at speed with their own trolley, which is never good.

What is far, far worse is when you see them returning slowly with the crash trolley but no patient. That evening, all Amina asked was the bare minimum before simply wrapping me in her arms after sticking something mindless on DVD into the telly. Which is why I love her.

Our plans for that Saturday went on hold, which was something I did feel guilty about, but we did our best to make up for it with a trip to the Smugglers. Amina surprised me by disappearing for a few minutes outside, but when she returned, she was smiling, oddly with relief.

“Follow my lead, love. Okay?”

“What are you up to?”

“Cunning plans, or at least I hope so. Marlene?”

“Yes?”

“Could we have a quiet word with Lil, if you can spare her?”

“Only if you promise to return her unsullied and with no further blemishes”

“Would I do that sort of thing to her?”

“I have no idea, but Moi is always on solids, so it’s not relevant. Lil! Sort the ambulance chaser out”

Our friend was soon slumped on a spare stool at our table.

“You rang?”

Amina nodded sharply.

“You drink sangria?”

“Not when working”

“Would you drink it if you weren’t working?”

“What are you plotting?”

“Right. Now, please don’t think I’ve been sneaking around…”

“But that means you have. Get to the point”

“Well, me and Jen here, place we’ve booked for four weeks’ time was advertised here. In the pub”

“And?”

“Owners are friends of Debbie Prosser”

“And?”

“Well, only place they had left when we booked was a two-bedroom unit”

“No way I could afford that, if you’re offering what I think you are”

Amina snatched a quick look at me, and there was definitely a hint of ‘I’ve been naughty’ in it.

“Yes, well. Debbie, she has friends. Her friends have friends. And I spoke to Jen, your Jen. And she has friends. You have visited her place, I know”

“Once. Train fares…”

“Here’s the deal. Accommodation’s paid for, and your Jen is up for this. You just get the train over to hers”

“Excusez Moi”

Marlene was looming over the table, trying not to look smug.

“Please complete the rest of the villain monologue. I’m all ears”

Amina shrugged.

“Yeah, sort of a plot, in reality. Jen knows someone over her way who works for the airport there. They get discount flights, and Jen can get two tickets for a lot less than normal. She’s up for the trip if you are, AND she can cover both tickets, so you just need to cover getting from here to Gatwick and back”

“Yeah, but…”

“Lil, shut up and, just this once, listen to Moi. I can read your mind: ‘why would Jen do that for me?’, and it makes me want to shake some bloody sense into you. Debbie… you mentioned Deb, Amina, and she spent too many years on her own because she was frightened, because she didn’t feel anyone could love her…”

“But her and Frank…”

“There very nearly WAS no ‘her and Frank’, Lil. Long story, private details, but just think, for once. Just make an old but perfectly preserved queen happy and say yes. Back room and phone her, now. Oh, and I’ll cover the rail tickets”

CHAPTER 4
Lil sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the mug of tea Alwen had just delivered. When she did speak, it was far more hesitant than I was used to hearing from her.

“What if… This is all sponging, stuff, yeah? If…”

She stopped once again, clearly seeking the right words before trying once again.

“If this is meant to be the start of proper things, proper COUPLE things, aye? How can I start on the basis of her paying for everything? And what if it doesn’t work out? How do I pay you all back?”

She looked across at her colleague, wincing slightly.

“I mean, look at Alwen there, and Maria. Both young, both students. Equal depth to their pockets, isn’t it, and a lot more of their lives ahead to come back from bad choices”

Alwen winced.

“Not now, Lil. I mean, shit… I can’t even go home without having to change clothes and try to remember, you know. Parents’ home, I mean. Everywhere else, even college, and then… I just don’t know”

That was when I saw a lot of what the other Jenny must have seen in Lil, because her whole focus visibly shifted, and it was now on Alwen.

“What don’t you know, love?”

Marlene sniffed.

“Bloody social worker, I am. It’s quiet, and Ox has the bar. Out with it, girl”

The younger woman slumped into a chair almost as heavily as had Lil.

“You’re going to wonder…”

Marlene took her hands in hers.

“If you think I was too pushy that night…”

Alwen shook her head, emphatically.

“No. I needed that shove. I thought… Jen, she had a dress for me, LBD thing, and it was all my choice, but in the end, well, no choice, really. Marlene, I remember thinking that first step down the stairs, aye? First step to real life. Cliché, of course, but you know… You’re all my friends, aren’t you?”

Amina put her hand on top of Marlene’s.

“You really ask yourself that, Alwen? I think, really, you know the answer, don’t you?”

“Um… Yeah. I suppose I do. It’s just, well, I need reassurance, far too often. It’s so many things, aye? Am I real? I don’t do all those things---look, I don’t really use make-up, and I am SO not into jewellery, and… It was something Mam said, about bringing friends home, family home, aye? Not to bring men anywhere near her”

Lil burst out laughing, a bloody good sign.

“Tell me all about THAT one, woman!”

“Yeah, but, well. Lot of shit from the gender clinic, I’ve heard. Am I really a woman if I don’t fancy men? And her friend, and that Aussie lad, so bloody loved up it should come with a sugar tax levy. And Maria is just so, so, persistent”

Marlene’s voice was still soft.

“I can warn her off, if you’d like”

“I… I don’t know, Marlene. I mean, she’s nice enough, and, well, it’s more me than her. Nothing downstairs for her, not like there was for me. Er, sorry; that was meant to sound clever. Look, I just don’t know. I just feel there’s pressure on me from every bloody direction, and it is messing my head up. Sorry, Lil. This was meant to be about helping you, not sorting me out”

Lil shrugged.

“Want me to tell the truth? You just have, love. Perspective helps, realising my plate is a lot less loaded than other people’s”

A sharp laugh, before she added, “And that didn’t come out the way I meant to, but you catch my drift. Tell me about this hotel place, Jen…”

Tom and I were back on the road on the Monday morning, and it was almost like a replay of the Lil and Alwen show, as he seemed a little withdrawn. We parked up in a favourite spot, by the Brooklands retail centre, and I popped into Greggs for a couple of sausage rolls and some coffee, hoping he’d stir himself into life if I offered him a few minutes alone. No joy.

“Tom?”

“Aye?”

“You okay? Very quiet, butt”

“Ah, Jen. Just thinking, yeah?”

“What about? If you want to tell me, of course”

“Ah, well… My driving, aye?”

“And what’s wrong with it?”

“I was too… If I’d pushed it a bit harder, that old woman, Cynthia, maybe she’d not have arrested. Might have survived…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“Tom, can you remember exactly why we kept the speed down? And yes, WE! She had a broken hip, and she was eighty bloody six, and it was her second heart attack, and we can’t always bloody win, can we? We, WE, did OUR best, and nothing would have been enough. How many RTC deaths have we seen?”

“More than enough, but they’re different”

“No they bloody aren’t. There are just some occasions when there’s nothing more we, or anyone else, can do. You have to…”

“Foxtrot One Five, Foxtrot One Five, Central”

I took the handset, for once quicker than Tom.

“Go ahead, Central”

“What’s your location, Jen?”

“Brooklands retail park, stationary. What do you have?”

“An urgent one. Report of middle-aged woman, breathing difficulties. Called in by M.O.P. M.O.P. is staying with her for now, so far””

“So far. Location?”

“Outside the Highfields, Caerau Road. No, she wasn’t in the pub”

“Understood. On way”

“Thanks, Jen. Update when and if we can”

“Understood. Out”

I hung up, as Tom fired up the light and sound, and his driving this time took no prisoners, maybe to compensate for what he saw as his failings with Cynthia. I had to keep one hand on the grab handle as we made warp speed through at least two red lights, and in a stupidly short time we were turning of Heol Trelai and pulling up by the pub, where a gaggle of early drinkers was sitting well apart from two women, with no apparent concern, on the picnic tables in front of the building. Tom spun us round, reversing up towards a low wall but making sure to keep enough space for trolley and lift. One of the women was straight across to us, waving a mobile phone, and I did my best to let Tom collar her as I went straight to what was clearly our patient, and, shit: cyanosis.

“Tom! Bottle and mask!”

He disengaged from our Member Of Public, and in thirty seconds I had the oxygen flowing and, thank god, the change in her colour was almost instant, like the sun coming up. I waved across to M.O.P., and she settled down beside the casualty, handing her the phone. I clipped on the blood oxy meter---shit, not at all good.

“Hi, I’m Jen, that’s Tom. I’d like to leave this lady to breathe for a while, but if you don’t mind, could you tell me what you know?”

Her eyes were just starting to leak, so I kept the smile going.

“What do I call you, love?”

“I’m Glenys. Glenys Shaw. I don’t know this lady”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing, really. She was just sitting on the wall, with her phone out. Couldn’t speak, aye? So I took the phone, realised it was on nine nine nine, so finished the call. Thought I’d stay by, see she was all right. Helped her onto this seat. Nothing, really”

Once again, for god’s sake. ‘Nothing’?

“Glenys, thank you. Trust me, it wasn’t ‘nothing’, so you can feel proud today. This lady was turning blue when we arrived, which is not a good colour for skin. Can you manage a few words, love? Can we maybe have a name? Tom’s just getting the stretcher on wheels, and then we’ll run you into St Dai’s”

She fumbled in her handbag, pulling out her purse, which held a driving licence. Hannah Saunders, aged… right, sixty-four, and from about two hundred yards away.

“Trolley, Tom. Do you think you can stand, Hannah? Just need a few steps, then we’ll settle you on the trolley. I’ll keep the oxygen on”

She patted my hand before holding up hers: wait. A search in her handbag produced a scrap of paper, and I passed her a pen as she scribbled her name, address and a ‘thank you’ for Glenys, who was now starting to weep. A quick hug, and then onto the trolley, up on the lift and then her oxy line switched to the ambulance’s feed. Tom wasn’t as manic this time, but he was definitely in full blues-and-twos mode. I called in the numbers, and we were straight through triage to a space in one of the corridors, and amazingly only waited ten minutes after the canular went into her arm before she was in a bay in Casualty and awaiting a bed in the Acute Medical Ward and a CT scan.

I finally pulled Tom away, as he seemed determined to keep watch on her, almost as if he could heal her by sheer presence and force of will.

“Queue to unload, butt. We need to move. Come on”

I almost pushed him out to our wagon, and we found a space in the Severn Road car park before ringing in an order to the Jamaican place up the road. Once that was done, I started, gently, on Tom.

“Feeling better, now?”

He nodded.

“We got that one right, Jen. Thoughts?”

“Oh, bloody obvious ones, love. Without Glenys, she’d have been toast. Those pissheads at the pub weren’t exactly rushing to help, were they?”

“What do you think, diagnosis, like?”

“They start drinking first thing, they get pissed”

“No. Hannah”

“Ah, that one, well, a guess. Her airways were fine, and lungs were taking in lots of air, so got to be something like an embolism. Probably pulmonary. I gave her a shot of warfarin, just in case”

“Poor woman”

“Yeah, well, nature of our job, butt. Now, got your cash, and I’ll go and grab the food. Can you give Central a shout, drop a subtle hint so we don’t have to drop our food”

The smile that came back made me feel a lot better about him. Four weeks later, we saw Lil off on a slow train to Gatwick, and Amina and I started packing for sun, sea and sangria. Sorry, Tom: bugger caravan parks.

CHAPTER 5
Amina and I flew from Cardiff, thankfully, rather than Bristol, but we’d chosen to ride on the number 304 bus, which always takes an age for the journey. We got to see Barry, though, which was…

“They did that series here, Jen”

“Which one?”

“Being Human”

“The ghosts and vampires thing?”

“And werewolves, love. Filmed it in Barry”

“Thought it was in Bristol?”

“To start with, yeah, but when they changed the cast, and that bloke with the ears left, it was moved to Barry. Not sure if that was an upward or downward move. Anyway, only a few more stops”

“Get a bloody cab next time, love”

“No arguments from me. I think my arse is already asleep, and we’re not even on the plane yet. I’ll need a massage when we get to the hotel. Hint hint”

“Well, the other two will be in the air by now, so might have to wait till we settle them in first”

“Bad timing, that. Would have been nice to have the whole unit to ourselves for a bit”

“A bit of what?”

“Cheeky!”

We emerged from the bus, finally, and yawned and stretched our way through check-in and bag drop before a short session grazing in the departure lounge, eyes on the big board. A gate number eventually appeared, and twenty minutes later we shuffled down the airbridge to our plane. There was the usual juggling game, until our bums were on our seats, our belts fashioned, and, at last, the plane was heading out on the taxiway. Yes: I do know all the technical terms, because one of our responsibilities, Tom and I, is to collect medical emergencies from the airport.

Sometimes, there’s no hurry. Or rather, there is no longer a need for it. Only twice, however, have we had to use a scissors lift to remove a casualty who had ceased to be a patient, and whose journey had reached a different destination to that intended.

I fell asleep right after we levelled out, which was one reason Amina gave me the window seat, thus avoiding the need to climb over me for any reason, such as a full bladder. She shook me awake once she had spotted land, and the seat belt light had sparked to life. Seats upright, tray tables away, etc, and then a bang, with rather a bit of rocking, and we were down. We left the plane by airstairs and squeezed onto one of those waddling airport tarmac coaches for the ride to the terminal, where the bloody Spanish made us queue for ages just to get a passport stamp.

Finally, though, we were able to get our bags through the automatic doors into the Arrivals area, where Amina spotted Lil and Jenny waving at us from a sort of café space. Jenny in particular seemed absolutely serene.

“Good flight, you two?”

I shrugged.

“No idea. Busy week, so I was out of it at wheels-up. Ask Amina”

My wife snorted.

“Could just about see past her, so I saw some of the ground”

Lil was shaking her head.

“Too much of that flight was over the sea. Bugger all to look at. And when did they stop doing meals?”

Amina’s eyebrows went up in amazement.

“When did you last fly, Lil?”

“Can’t remember. At least twenty years ago”

“Well, there’s at least one grasping tosser who wants to charge for using the toilet. That’s why you always, ALWAYS check the ‘extras’ rather than just looking at the lead price”

Jenny grinned, not entirely happily.

“That’s why I went to my friend Caroline and got tickets at employee rates. It’s… There’s other shit, too. When Lil and I met, I was on a short break. So many places I wanted to go, but when you travel solo, they really do screw you for every penny”

Amina softened her words as best she could, after a glance at me.

“If you had gone to one of those other places, you wouldn’t have met, you two. Anyway, the hotel’s supposed to have a transfer minibus. Shall we get rolling?”

The information desk was surprisingly helpful, especially compared to the Spanish Customs people, and we were soon at the appropriate stand. Ten minutes after we sat down in some well-appreciated shade, a fifteen-seater rolled up. Together with four other passengers we loaded our bags and were off, initially along a reasonably modern dual carriageway, passing through terrain that looked like a cross between a disused quarry and some of the rover footage from Mars, just with added scraps of moribund shrubbery. That finally gave way to an urban area, initially well=spaced, and then into a somewhat more constricted collection of high rises and ‘motel-style’ hotel complexes. We pulled up in front of one of the latter, a rainbow flag fling over the sign ‘Two Canny Lads’, and one of the men riding us remarked, rather archly, “Anyone would think there might be gay people around”.

His companion sniffed.

“As if! I shall save you from them if you spot any”

“More like save them all for yourself, you mean. Pool’s waiting, time’s wasting”

The four other arrivals were all friends, and at the hotel reception two local girls worked through their booking as an older Geordie man did ours.

“And, just to help with our marketing, can you tell us how you heard about our hotel?”

I waved at the others.

“We all go into a pub in Cardiff, the same pub, I mean. They have leaflets there, your leaflets”

The man grinned happily.

“Smugglers, by any chance? I think I’ve seen one of you there… Lily?”

She nodded.

“Lil, but yes. I work there”

“You’ll know some of our friends, then. Debbie Prosser? Diane Sutton and her crew?”

I couldn’t help laughing at that.

“How could anyone NOT know Deb? I mean, they’ve got the pub quiz game sewn up between them, and Di’s lot, well, all the rest. I shall just say ‘Gemma’ and ‘pastries’ and leave it there. I try and plan routes to avoid that shop, when I’m working. This is my missus Amina, I’m Jen, and so is my non-wife here”

“Hi, then. A bit like Trumpton, that. I’m Graham, him indoors is Malcolm, and what can I tell you about the area? Usual question the girls are just answering over there is ‘where’s the best gay bar’, and we do indeed have one in the hotel”

Amina took my arm, with just a bit of a hint in her squeeze of it.

“Don’t know about the others over there, but I don’t think cruising is what we’re after. Decent food, maybe some music that isn’t too shit?”

“Well, we actually have a little local map Malcolm drew up. I can send it to your phone; it’s interactive”

“Please. Now, are we about ready for me to drag her away and get her out of her clothes… and into her cossie for the pool?”

Graham laughed in appreciation.

“I see you fit right in at that pub! Here’s your room keys--- I’ve done four. There’s a room and area guide by the telly, with our wifi code, as well as all our mealtimes and room service menu, and there’s a fridge. Jug of sangria awaits you there”

The rooms, or apartments rather, were spread around a courtyard holding a reasonably-sized and immaculate pool, and the accommodation itself consisted of a central living room with attached mini-kitchen and shower/toilet wet room. The bedrooms were either side, each with a window facing in towards the pool rather than out towards any traffic noise, which was a nice touch. Amina pushed me into one of the bedrooms, closing the door behind her.

“Strip. Change. Then I am pouring the cold wet stuff, so if you want any, get moving. Capisce? That’s yer ackshull Spanish, that is!”

“Er, I think it was actually Italian, love”

“Move!”

I did as ordered, Amina moving so much more quickly than me, and after a quick bagging of sunscreen, towels and other stuff, we entered the living room just as Lil and Jenny appeared. We sort of matched, as both Lil and I were wearing what the shop had called tankinis, while the others were in more abbreviated two-piece costumes, Amina’s leaving very little for the imagination to guess at.

Jenny was much leaner, of course, but while her hips were not really as wide as, well, as she might have wished, her top was…

Put those thoughts away, woman.

Amina had found two large jugs in the fridge, and before we braved the sun we did indeed sample, fully, the fruity goodness. Amina was looking at the guide app Graham had sent her.

“First thing tomorrow, girls, or this evening if we have the energy, we hit the local supermercado---and that IS Spanish, love---to top up our supplies. Box or six of the wet stuff, and some fresh fruit to slice into it. What are we doing for food tonight?”

Lil sighed.

“I hope you’re not after staying out all night? I, for one, am shattered already”

Amina waved the room service menu.

“They do bar meals here, girls. Quite a range, including a tapas selection. That’s for me, anyway. Happy to go with the flow”

Staying in seemed to be the consensus, so once we had done sufficient justice to the cold drink, we were off into the ‘how bloody hot is this?’ of the courtyard. There were enough free sun loungers, and as I stared up into the oddly pale sky, I could see small clouds scudding past in what was clearly quite a stiff breeze, although we were fully sheltered by the surrounding buildings. The pool water was just right, at least for half-floating, face turned up and eyes closed. I just lazed there, losing complete track of time, until Amina splashed me.

“Out and get sun creamed, love. Not spending the whole holiday with a piece of pickled beetroot. Same for you two and, don’t even think it: yes, I still need sunscreen!”

The food that evening was more than adequate, our bed was comfy, and in the end, as we heard from the other bedroom, it appeared that the only ones of those five words beginning with ‘s’ the other two had left to tick were ‘sand’ and ‘sea’.

As long as we could keep that mood going, it looked like being a good holiday.

CHAPTER 6
That day was one for bimbling. Sunscreen slathered, floaty dresses and floppy hats donned, or shorts and T-shirt in Lil’s case, and it was a slow amble past a wide variety of shops and tourist traps, with the occasional pause for ice cream, or a cold soft drink. We eventually emerged at the seafront, where all the usual sorts of souvenir cabins and eateries lined one side of a broad footpath, the other dropping onto a sort of beach.

I say ‘sort of’, because while there was quite a bit of sand, the waterline looked like gravel. Beyond the gravel was a broad rock ledge; sweeping golden sands were most definitely not the local thing. Jenny (I had decided that I would be the short form) stared at the black slabs.

“That’s lava, isn’t it? Old lava flow”

I pointed inland, past some high rise blocks to a much higher rise of land.

“Sodding great volcano there. Might have something to do with things. Now, I think we need footwear options”

Three puzzled faces looked back.

“Water shoes, girls. Sandals you can swim in. Not walking on that stuff with bare feet, and I am certainly not spreading my towel on it. One of those tat shops will have the necessaries. You got any goggles or anything, Lil?”

“Um, no. Didn’t think”

“Then think”

Ten minutes later, and we had our needful things, and I volunteered to take the first shift of towel sitting while the other three hit the water. I was a bit disappointed with the beach, to be honest; my dreams had been of gentle waves, white sands and waving palms. The palms were there, even though cropped, but not my beach. I settled back with more than a little satisfaction, though, closing my eyes and luxuriating under blue (ish) skies and a most un-Welsh warm sun. When my turn for a swim came, it was most definitely not like Barry.

We worked a rotation from toasting on our spread towels to cooling in the shallow waves, with the obligatory attempts to drown each other, which was when I discovered that Lil---LIL!---had a very piercing squeal. Work was centuries away, cares washed out of my soul in the salt water. There were clouds, mostly drifting over from the big volcano, but they were clouds, no more, rather than warnings of an imminent replay of Pompeii. Our lunch was made up of bits and pieces from a seafront ‘minimarket’, and all was right with the world.

We set off back for the hotel at around five, and as we called at reception, Graham asked how our day had been. Amina was as direct as ever.

“Beach isn’t exactly great, is it? All congealed lava”

“Really? Where did you go?”

“Las Americas beach. Where else?”

“Well, if you’d gone south rather than west, there are some proper beaches there. Sand, aye? Not as good as my old place, but the sea’s warmer”

He laughed out loud at his own words.

“When I say ‘warmer’, like, it’s a bit like saying the Arctic can be a bit on the chilly side”

Lil perked up just then.

“That old place of yours. Was that where Mike was talking about? Friend of Debbie’s, he is. Took his family up that way for a tour”

“Whereabouts?”

“Maz—his wife, aye? She said something about a boat out to some little islands, with seals and things”

“The Farnes?”

“Sounds like the name”

“We’re not far from there. I was a farmer, dairy herd. Just back from the beach. Hang on…”

He turned to his laptop, pulling up the maps, and then the street view.

“That’s our beach. Dunstanburgh”

Amina eased past me for a closer look.

“Why couldn’t you just bring that with you?”

“Ah, it’s miles long. Would have cost a bit in hold baggage fees. Now, the better beaches here are…”

He pointed them out on the screen, passing us a timetable for local transport, then asked where were eating that evening. Lil stared at Jenny for a few seconds, getting a nod, and then turned to Graham.

“What you said the first evening, about the best gay bars? Well, we, me and Jen here, we don’t fancy that sort of scene right now. Just decent food, and somewhere to sit and natter”

Amina had her hand up.

“And booze, of course!”

Lil raised an eyebrow, archly.

“Well, duh!”

Graham nodded.

“One good rule of thumb is not to eat anywhere with pictures of the food up as you go in. Spanish, local, international or Brit food?”

I shrugged.

“Local, for me. There’s a difference between local and Spanish?”

“Yup. Lots of African influence here, plus what became Spanish Caribbean stuff, as well as historic things from before the Spanish came. Hang on…. Got a leaflet…”

He passed us a list of the main local specialities, then looked at the clock.

“Drink before you go out, ladies?”

Jenny laughed.

“Shower the salt off first, be like, then hydrate. Sangria for me!”

I thanked Graham and led the way to our little place, where we decided that we could all save water by showering in pairs, before all adopting ‘comfy’ gear rather than ‘smart’ and settling down to the big jug of cold fruitiness the bar staff had ready for us. Jenny had clearly been paying attention, for as the first sips went down, she started a little lecture about traditional eating places.

“I have a particular place in mind, if that’s okay. Local cuisine, but a big emphasis on seafood”

Amina perked up, as is her way.

“Are we talking tentacles?”

Jenny nodded.

“If I have it right, LOADS of tentacles. They also do it as tapas, which is unusual. Apparently, tapas is more a Spanish and tourist thing. Means we get a chance to taste more things”

I looked at Amina, who was clearly reading my mind, as usual, and she simply nodded. I squeezed her hand, just to let her know.

“Jenny?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I make another suggestion?”

“Course”

“Then why don’t we look for a bar with seating on the seafront, and finish the evening there after eating? I don’t think any of us is really out for a rave”

Lul muttered something about her age and her back, and Amina sniffed, before a mock sulk.

“No slow smoochy dances for me, then? Typical. Marriage really does kill romance!”

Jenny chuckled, then looked at our now-empty jug.

“Shall we get rolling, then?”

The place turned out to look pretty drab from the outside, but once in the door it turned out to be a large courtyard, covered by a trellis with some sort of climbing flowery plant all over it. The floor was a little uneven, and the chairs were metal, so every time someone moved there was a bit of a screech. At least the table we were given didn’t rock. We were left with four full laminated menus, what was clearly a separate ‘fixed price’ deal on a piece of A4 paper and a couple of drink lists.

“You English? Deutsch? Nederlands?”

Lil answered for us all, “Welsh!”, which seemed to leave our waitress rather confused, so I added, “Next to England, it is”

“Oh! Scotsia? Earlanda? Galless?”

Jenny solved that one, and we put our drinks orders in. When our woman returned with the first round, she brought a little Welsh flag on a stick which she placed in the pottery vase thing that held the cutlery. She grinned happily at our reaction.

“Is my hijo, si? My son. He work in Barcelona and plays the rugby game. All flags for Copa--- World Cup, he was here for vacation. We did special nights”

She left us, with a smile, and I started to look through the main menu as Jenny hauled out a bundle of paper that turned out to be a sort of idiot’s guide to the local food. Amina looked up from her cold beer with a frown.

“Don’t remember Spain in the World Cup”

Lil shrugged.

“Ah, they qualified, for the last two, I think, but they had a ding-dong with Romania, and it turned out that one of their players was on a false passport, so they got the boot. What? I’m Welsh! Played when I was a bit younger, but past it now”

Jenny was shaking her head, a hint of a grin showing.

“That’s two of us, then. I was made to play at school, but it was never my thing. Not to play, anyway”

Not bloody surprising, was my thought. Every so often some comment like that emerged, and I would realise how easy my life had actually been, despite my PCOS and other issues. Change the subject, Jen.

“Jenny? What’s good on that list of yours, and how does it compare to what’s offered on the menu?”

“Oh…. Right…hang on a sec… Yup”

She put her papers down on the table next to one of the plastic-covered menus and started talking through the specialities, and in the end we each settled for a main dish along with a drift of little platters to share, and it turned out to be almost too much to finish, which is always the problem with tapas. ‘Ooh, that looks nice, and so does that, and…’ doesn’t always finish on a note of ‘Anyone want this last bit of tentacle before I grab it?’ but more often with a variation of ‘If I have any more, I’ll be ill’. If we were looking to spend some time chilling on the seafront, I preferred to do so with room to spare in the tank.

Bill paid, arms linked and a slow, slow stroll through the warm darkness back to our first beach, where there were a couple of bars with open-air seating just behind the seafront promenade, which seemed like a plan to us all. As we approached, I was delighted not to hear some over-pumped sound system churning out shit music, and then there was a free table, just inside the little fence that marked off the seating area. Lil muttered something to Jenny as we sat down, and that one called across to me and Amina with a grin.

“Professional complaint, she says. People should have to go to the bar, not sit round like, what was it, love? Oh yes: little lazy sacks of laziness? Yeah, like little sacks et cetera, waiting to be served”

Amina settled back in her seat, clearly trying for her best Richard E Grant.

“I want the finest sangria known to humanity, and I want it here and I want it now”

Lil shook her head.

“Not me. Anyone fancy sharing a bottle of cava?”

My wife perked right up.

“Forgot about that, I did! Me for the fizzy as well, then”

I gave her the usual eyebrows.

“Does fizz go with tentacles?”

“Dunno. Gonna find out!”

I caught a slurred voice, almost a whisper.

“Yebbut, mate, only one of them’s a wog”

The comment had come from outside the fenced-off seating, and from its intonation, I assumed it wasn’t actually meant for us. At least, I hoped it wasn’t. I saw Lil’s head rise, her eyes narrowing, and then they were there, leaning over the little railing.

“Evening, ladies!”

There were three of them, one in a Chelsea shirt, another in an England football top and the spokesman in St George’s flag tee that left the lowest part of a hairy gut exposed.

“You English?”

Chelsea stage-whispered to Four Lions, “Apart from the Paki, course”, while George tried to charm us.

“Want some company, ladies?”

Amina had that poised look that always worried me, and her tone was brittly cheerful.

“We’ve already got company, thank you”

“Oh? Where they at, then?”

I caught the word ‘sheepshaggers’ from Chelsea just as Jenny rose from her seat with a whispered “Ladies’”, trotting off to the bar. My hearing was still on alert mode, for the next word that jumped out, from Lions, was ‘tranny’. Bugger. Amina was ramping up, well into attack mode.

“We’re our own company, thanks. Now, I’m sure you… LITTLE boys have got somewhere more important to be. Past your bedtime, I think”

George spread his arms wide, with an utterly false grin.

“Dykes!”

Lions held up a finger.

“That one’s a tranny, so does it count?”

Chelsea was swaying slightly.

“Dunno, lads. Need to see them do some dyking to be sure. Go on, then!”

Amina cocked her head.

“Go on what?”

“With tongues, yeah? Bit of snogging!”

“Why don’t you just fuck right off, you fat stinking English arsehole?”

“Bit rich from a fucking Paki rugmuncher!”

Just as he went to push over the railing, Jenny was back, this time with what were clearly a couple of kitchen staff, one of them with a meat mallet in his hand. Behind them stood what I assumed was the owner, who turned to us with a slight bow and then spoke politely, with a strong Birmingham accent.

“My apologies, ladies” were his first words, before he turned to the three men.

“I told you to fuck off two nights ago. I haven’t forgotten your faces, and I won’t. Fuck off now, while you still can, right?”

George tried to argue, but Lions was tugging his arm, and in the end all we got was a load more abuse, but thankfully they were retreating. Our real new friends stayed with us, the owner turning to apologise once more.

“Sorry, ladies. There’s always a few scrotes to spoil the atmosphere, but don’t let it put you off. You ordered your drinks?”

Lil nodded.

“Two bottles of cava, four glasses”

“Right. I’ll get that moving for you”

As he turned to leave, the first empty beer bottle smashed a few feet outside the fence, and he sighed.

“Never learn, do they?”

A second crash of breaking glass was followed by some shouting, and he pointed towards the three drunks, just as a squad of local police piled into them with what was clearly an excess of enthusiasm.

“I warned them two nights ago, and I warned them it would be the filth if they came back. Your mate Jen here, she gave me enough time to press the panic buzzer. Direct link to the local cop shop. That’s their holiday over, oh dear, how sad, never mind. Now, want some nibbles with your fizz? I’ll just get someone to clear that glass, and then we can all relax”

Jenny sighed.

“Can I REALLY go to the loo now?”

Once she was out of earshot, Lil leant in closer.

“Tranny, eh?”

Amina squeezed my hand, before bringing it to her lips for a kiss.

“It’s the PCOS, Lil. We get it a lot”

“Well, bloody good job Jen was at the bar, then. I haven’t punched anyone in years, but he was working me up to it”

I squeezed my wife’s hand in return, then smiled at the other woman.

“Which one were you going to punch?”

“Which one first, you mean? Does it matter? Oh, and I know you caught what Jen called me”

Amina and I looked at each other, and my beloved showed what had made me fall for her in her next question.

“Not putting you on the spot, Lil, but how do you feel?”

“Me? To be honest, a bit stupid. Marlene’s been on my case, all of Deb Prosser’s crew as well. I mean, just now; we’re getting ready for a punch-up, and she’s cleared off, just long enough to call the cavalry, though, and then she’s back with us. I mean, what more do I want?”

Amina smiled, so, so gently.

“And she wants you, Lil”

“Yeah. It’s that old imposter thing. I’m worthless, et cetera, et cetera, not good enough for her”

“And yet you are the one she says she loves, so you can’t be worthless, aye?”

“Aye. She’s on her way back, okay? Sort the glasses out, girls, while I do the cork”

She eased the first one with only the faintest of pops, the professional that she was, and poured the first round.

“Here’s to us, ladies, and to a lovely holiday, and one from me to you, Jen, my love”

CHAPTER 7
Jenny looked a little surprised at that, and I realised how much of Lil’s problem went both ways. How must a trans woman feel, when so much of the world was shouting that same ‘imposter’ directly into her face? I did a rapid blessings count, giving my wife’s hand a squeeze, before waving in the general direction of our departed arseholes.

“Men, ey? Who’d have’em?”

Jenny stared down at her glass.

“Who’d be one?”

Amina slapped her arm.

“Well, none of us are, so it’s a moot point, eh, girls? Now, I don’t plan on getting blotto tonight, so does anyone have any suggestions for tomorrow?”

Jenny was almost blushing, and she looked across at Lil before taking her hand, with a whispered, “You sure?”

Lil just nodded, then grinned in a more than slightly fragile way.

“Going to take a guess here, cause when we met, she was actually on a birdwatching trip. This idea that all of us can see you have, love, would it involve that?”

A rather hesitant nod was followed by what was clearly a swig of her wine rather than a sip.

“I saw a leaflet at the hotel for a four-wheel drive tour. Goes through some of the weirder bits of landscape, but it’s also aimed at the natural stuff. Cactus, lizards, odd rock stuff”

Amina grinned happily.

“Birds as well?”

“Well, some”

“And when we get back?”

Jenny perked up immediately.

“Um, the various words beginning with S?”

I stuck my oar in.

“Sun, sea, sand and sangria?”

The woman was suddenly blushing like a stop light, and Amina just giggled.

“We’ll leave that one unsaid, then. Now, who else has the munchies? After those three idiots, I rather fancy a nibble on some pork balls…”

I held a hand up.

“Don’t know what they’re called, but they do a sort of crispy crab ball, with the pincher sticking out”

My wife corrected me with a sniff and the word “Pincer, love”, to which I gave the obvious response.

“Never, ever been pinsed, but I HAVE been pinched more than once. Sometimes by bloody patients”

Lil shuddered.

“New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, that’s one of the worst times. Same for you?”

“Well, a lot more when I was working in a place for straights. Now, it’s a toss-up. If they’re lucky, it’s a right hook from me. A bit less lucky, and it’s a left from Ox”

Amina did her best expectant face, and Lil grinned.

“Yeah, shit out of luck gets the full Marlene experience. Then again, did you hear about Gemma?”

“Pastries Gemma? Jen and me, we love her stuff”

“Lots of folk do. Some lad got leery in the queue, apparently, usual shit. Young lad that knew her slightly stepped in, and they flattened him. Turned out the rest of the queue was loaded”

We all did our own ‘expectant’ faces, and Lil laughed again, far more freely.

“Well, Rhys and Candice were there for starters”

Jenny looked confused, so Amina cleared things up.

“Two of our regular coppers. Blonde woman, and big, big man”

Lil nodded.

“Yup. The one with the big scar on his face. Bish, bosh, nicked. You know the Bakers, at our quizzes? Deb’s lot? Gemma’s one of theirs. And speaking of food, I see tapas approaching”

It was the owner again, with a collection of little plates. Amina reached for a couple, already up to full speed in grilling him about being a Brummy in the Canaries.

“You met the wife, I saw. Boy’s off at Uni on the mainland, but at least I got him into rugby rather than Villa or the Baggies. Short version is that I was always out here for holidays, met the missus-to-be, decided to stay”

Jenny was looking at her lover, clearly thinking of possible parallels, when Amina asked the obvious question about family, friends and upheaval. Our new friend simply grinned.

“Have you ever been to Brummagem? If you had, you’d understand. Enjoy!”

The next morning’s hangover was barely noticeable, so breakfast was a relief rather than a chore. Jenny’s excursion was due to start at ten, so we had time to sort a day pack each with water and some fruit before our driver was parking up. The vehicle turned out to be a well-used Landrover County, with rather larger tyres than I was used to, the driver looking rather like a walnut of indeterminate age.

“Good morning! I am Felipe! Call me Phil, please. Your first time on the islands?”

I shook my head.

“Not for me and Amina here, but I think it is for these others”

“Which one of you is Jennifer Moore?”

Jenny raised a hand, and Phil produced a little card reader.

“Just need a quick swipe, but first…”

Apparently, we had accident insurance built into the fee, which eased my mind a little. I have been on some alleged ‘off-road’ tours that were no more exciting than a walk on a smooth beach, but once, and only once, Amina and I had done the tour offered by a slate quarry up north. Oh dear.

We loaded our kit, and Phil was off and into his spiel.

“We do a bit of driving first. It takes us by coast to north top of island, where is forest and mirador. Er, place to see views. Then we come through middle to place to eat, traditional Canary Island food, and then we have Teide national park, with rocks and local plantings. Miss Moore has said about her own interest, so we finish at a park above the town, where there is easy birds”

I will admit I fell asleep on the first leg, which was basically motorway-style driving, granted along the edge of a sparkling sea and underneath arid mountains, but still boring as all hell. Things changed after about an hour, when the road turned inland and very, very twistily uphill. Our views were blocked by dense scrub or low forest, until we suddenly emerged at a small car park well away from any foliage, and we started to punish our memory cards while Jenny got down to serious business with a telescope. The views were wide, across hillsides and odd little perched villages to mountains and the sea. Just about worth the drive, I thought, and after Jenny had spent rather a while in silence, we were off again, this time staying with the twistiness until it opened out onto brown, dry slopes, and we pulled into what looked like a species of isolated ‘services’. I realised Jenny was clutching a paperback, and to no surprise on my part, it was called something like ‘Where to Watch Birds in the Canaries’.

“Please tell me this isn’t…”

She blushed, just slightly.

“It is. It’s the bushes around the site”

Phil said we had an hour for lunch, and we settled down under the shade of the usual big, square umbrellas for a meal of local dishes, adequately cooked, and no booze. Jenny spent half her time turned away from the rest of us, until she finally sighed.

“Got one, at last! There, on the little wall”

Lil turned to look.

“I can see two birds”

“Well, one’s a canary. It’s the dark blue one I was after. It’s a Canaries chaffinch. I didn’t want to go hone without seeing THE local bird”

I pointed towards the bus park.

“Is that another couple over there?”

Jenny suddenly grinned, her face really lighting up.

“Yeah, it’s always the way. They’re like London buses. Don’t see one for ages, and then there’s a herd. Like wildebeest, galloping majestically cross the veldt”

“We’ve sort of been ignoring you. What else have you seen?”

“Oh, mostly SBJs— small brown jobs--- but local specials. Even the sparrows are different, here. I’m hoping, if we get somewhere greener, to show you a real treat”

“Such as?”

“Save that until we do, okay? Anyway, let’s get this down us and I believe the next bit will be one of the spectaculars”

She was right on that one, for that was when we finally went off-road. I can’t remember the names of the places Phil took us, but they were both bizarre and spectacular. At one particularly chaotic stretch, Amina turned to me and asked, “Am I the only one thinking ‘fur bikini’ here?”

It took a second, then I twigged.

“Shawshank?”

Lil barked out a laugh.

“Well before that, woman! Raquel Welch, One Million Years BC”

Jenny stared at her.

“Now, why might you remember that, hmmm? Would there be a couple of big reasons?”

Lil tried to bluff it out.

“Good actress, fine performance”

Jenny was having none of it.

“Nope. Bikini. Fur. Well-filled. I rest my case”

Phil called over his shoulder.

“Was film here, and on Lanzarote. But we got no dinosaurs anymore. My father, he liked her. Did driving for Hammer”

He pulled up to point out some particularly striking pinnacle, at which point I realised my wife was in the middle of a well-stifled fit of the giggles. I nudged her with an elbow, and she burst out laughing, before declaring that Lil and Jenny were already acting like an old married couple, and then asking where all the romance had gone, Phil, sensible man, simply held his tongue.

Our next stop was in a small village in the most contorted valley I have ever seen, all towering peaks, jagged pinnacles and precipitous drops. I don’t know how high the peaks were, but they were a long way up, and the ground below our car park was a hell of a long way down. It was delightful!

Eventually, though, we ran out of time, and Phil started the drive back, once more on main roads. We were slumped in our seats, drowsing, when I realised we were turning into the entrance of a golf course, of all things, a golf course.

“Is hopefully a favour for Miss Moore, here, si? If I am right…. Yes!”

He parked up well outside any designated parking spaces, while Jenny sighed happily, passing a couple of spare sets of binoculars around.

“There. By the water trap, pond thing. This is my treat to you”

I have never seen an odder bird. First, it was turning round and round in circles, like a broken compass, stopping every so often to push its beak into the ground like a tired sewing machine. That beak was curved. There was a long crest on the thing’s head which it erected a couple of times, to show something like a Native American feather bonnet, and, to cap it all, the bird was powder pink. Eventually, as golfers approached in an electric buggy, it took off, showing black and white wings and a flight more like that of a butterfly than of a bird. Lil grunted.

“What the hell was that?”

“That, my love, was a hoopoe, and I suggest that there are few better ways to end a tour like this on. Thanks, Phil! You were dead right”

“My wife, Miss Moore, she don’t agree. You write letter to say I am allowed to be right?”

He got a bloody good tip instead, which would probably work better for his credibility.

In, changed, and splash into the pool. A jug of the usual fruity stuff for starters, a meal at the hotel, and then a quieter evening at our Brummy friend’s place. The whole thing was turning into a superb holiday. It was most definitely a cut above Barry.